


Inquiring Minds

by BlueQuartz



Category: Gotham - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueQuartz/pseuds/BlueQuartz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After bringing an unsuccessful academic career to a close, Kristen Kringle lands a job within the GCPD. At first, she expects nothing beyond filing reports, looking up old cases and working her way towards blending in and taking adulthood in stride. However, Gotham is not a city that allows people to live quiet, normal lives; which Ms. Kringle soon learns as she draws the attention of a certain scientist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inquiring Minds

Acherontic  
-  
_Where did it all go wrong?_

A question that was equal parts practical and philosophical. That one sentence encompassed her final attempt at university and the following job search. Education had been prized by her parents. The virtues of a sharp mind was the foundation of Kristen's childhood. Yet, according to them; it was time to put an end to her free ride in academia. They were set to retire, so it was time for Kristen to be pushed out of the cozy nest of dorm lofts and out into the real world.

Despite herself, Kristen wrinkled her nose at 'real world'. Wasn't studying just as real as actively pursuing a career? The pages of textbooks, the heady mix of frustration and exhilaration of finals week and the companionship of people who shared her interests had felt real enough. Yet when she first put down boxes into her rented living space; Kristen felt that her past with term papers, tests and lectures had been washed out. Maybe all of those hours spent under different tutors had been a fantasy.

The countryside campus with the stately buildings that boasted of architecture dreamed up by men who died long before her time seemed like another world. One that was a sanctuary, a reprieve from the hostile institution of high school and a stepping stone to greater things. Within those lecture halls, almost any area of study could be pursued. While greatness was not guaranteed, it felt as though everyone had potential. There was a warmth and sense of coming home while still having the freedom to explore and learn.

Here, within this tall brick building, Kristen could easily confess that she felt nothing but cold and disappointed. While the complex was perhaps just as old as the university campus, there was nothing historical nor innovative about the design. A tower full of shoe-box sized squares, meant to compartmentalize and shelter people. Nothing more, nothing less. Discouraged by her own line of thinking, Kristen went on to pull her ponytail tight then accent it with a length of black ribbon.

Even with the freedom of expression that came with university life, Kristen had always dressed conservatively. Sweaters, long sleeve blouses, pencil skirts and heels with just enough height to be 'cute' but not kill her feet. She recalled being teased of dressing matronly, but Kristen found that her choice in clothing were classic. Besides, she wasn't setting out to turn heads, if anything Kristen preferred to go unnoticed her first week at work.

After she grabbed her purse and umbrella at the door, Kristen locked her door. The decent downstairs had more appeal to her than riding in an elevator, besides given the age of the building she didn't trust the device. Just as predicted, she stepped out into a misty morning. With a pop, her umbrella unfurled. From underneath the protective dome, Kristen spared a glance at the outside world.

People huddled in trench coats, underneath umbrellas like hers or simply rushed forward as if they could outrun the light rain drops. The exhaust fumes made her eyes water and perhaps it was just her imagination, but everything seemed to be awash in tones of gray. Once more, she missed the manicured lawns, the courtyard gardens and brick buildings of university. Kristen was temporally robbed of her breath at the rush of homesickness. There had to be some mistake. She wasn't ready to face the world if it was going to be this detached and impersonal.

There was no time to dwell on her feelings though, in fact Kristen knew if she didn't hurry she'd be late for work. With that in mind, her heels lightly clicked on pavement while striding forward.

_There's no place like home_

Much like the unwelcome nostalgia, Kristen found the quote unexpected, only this time she drew some comfort from those words. No matter what today threw at her, the young woman took solace in the fact that she could come back to the apartment, pour herself some tea and curl up with a novel. That sounded like heaven. With thoughts of vanilla chamomile tea and questions as to which contemporary novel she should tackle first, Kristen effortlessly bypassed sidewalk hazards and blended in with her fellow pedestrians. The only thing to shake her out of the daydream was the sight of the Gotham City Police Department.

Although she had only stood in front of said building twice, not counting that morning; Kristen found that she couldn't get over how massive the building was. Each climb up the stairs imposed a sense of heading into the maw of some lumbering beast. Kristen briefly shook her head, the action easily dismissed as shaking off rain water that had managed to sneak past the umbrella. She couldn't let her imagination roam free on the first day. Maybe, once she's nailed down the routine and could anticipate no complications; Kristen could afford to let herself wonder if anyone else felt like the building was threatening enough to swallow them up.  
-

After being misdirected to three different desks, Kristen briefly chewed the inside of her right cheek because it looked like she was about to be dismissed and shoved off to yet another department's office. Although thinking it would be easier if she simply went to the archive office herself, Kristen was a stickler for rules and protocol. Thus she remained seated while a wheezing old woman wasted her time by having Kristen sign in as a visitor. Forced to wait until someone who knew about the archive office could come to her aid, Kristen crossed her legs at the ankles, back straight and looked around.

Below her was the bull pin. Patrol officers, detectives and various heads of departments milled around. Some hunched in their desk chairs, bleary eyes blinking at monitors while they typed out reports that would eventually wind up in her hands. Others drank coffee and chatted with their co-workers. Even though there was a smattering of feminine forms here and there, Kristen couldn't help but feel she had been parachute dropped into a testosterone zone. Uncomfortable with that assumption, Kristen sank a little in her seat.

However her posture was soon corrected when the secretary raised her head, “Ms. Kringle.”

“Yes?” she was on her feet before the elderly woman could start anew. As it turned out, Kristen had to follow the direction the secretary pointed the eraser end of her pencil.

“You need to speak with Detective Flass. He was the last person to sign out the key to the archives, so he still has it.”

Relieved that she had made some headway, Kristen gathered up her things and thanked the secretary, who only hummed in response and resumed her email correspondence. Kristen took another quick decent, only to find her progress impeded by having to move around officers and detectives who either did not see her walking there or only viewed her as an obstacle to bowl over. After nearly losing her footing once or twice, Kristen approached the detective. The first thing she noticed about Detective Flass was his broad shoulders and tall stature.

She also noticed that he was preoccupied with telling a story to those around him.

“Excuse me, Detective Flass” Kristen began, but her timid tone was drowned out by raucous laughter from the police officers. A frown found it's way to her lips, which threatened to turn into an impatient scowl as Kristen attempt to speak up again, only to be ignored.

“So then I asked him if he kissed his mother with that mouth and...”

Not caring that she'd missed the punch-line, Kristen reached over and lightly pulled on Detective Flass' arm. He turned abruptly, sharp blue eyes pinning down the person who dared to interrupt him. Kristen quickly released her hold, realizing too late that grabbing a detective might not be the way to earn a good first impression. Kristen could not repress the shiver that rippled down her spine, hating every lingering second of having everyone's undivided attention. Her gaze lowered, hands moved to her sides though she was sorely tempted to wring her hands together.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I need the archive key, detective.”

Kristen made herself look up, make eye contact even if she found the silence unnerving. Sure enough, when she glanced away from the floor and back to the detective, Kristen found him looking her up and down. Her throat tightened, heart pounding in time with her mounting dread. His square jaw an muscular form cut underneath his suit made Kristen feel small in comparison.

Flass snapped his fingers, “You must be the poor sap they hired to be the new records clerk.”

Kristen gave a brief nod in response, not trusting herself to speak right away. Something about being stared at made her voice tremble and she didn't want to give the impression of being afraid of the police detective.

She was shocked when Flass reached over and cupped her chin in his hand, “Listen, here's a little bit of advice. When you work with the GCPD, you need to learn to speak up and demand for what you want.”

Kristen bristled and jerked out of Detective Flass' reach. She attempted not to look disgusted, after all just a moment ago she had grabbed his arm, but the way he'd boldly touch someone's face and talk down to them like they were a toddler made her apprehensive.

“Alright...” Kristen began, clearing her throat first in order to be heard, “I demand that you give me the key to the archives. I need to get to work.”

Tension coils around her, squared Kristen's shoulders and made her pulse race. It shouldn't be that big of an ordeal, but Flass took his time opening desk drawers, shifting papers around and searching his pockets.

“Afraid I must have lost it. Sorry, but looks like you'll have to work outside of the office today.”

The way he smiled irked Kristen. He knew where the key was, but was purposefully being a child and withholding it from her, just to get a few laughs from his buddies. Although not one for dramatic tantrums, Kristen had every intention of storming off, only to be delayed by a “Hold on, think I've found it!”

Kristen turned and nearly collided with Flass' hand when he reached behind her ear. In the next fluid motion, he held the key out to her, dangling it by the string in front of Kristen's glasses.

“Well look at that, you had it the whole time.”

After giving the detective a withering look, Kristen reached up to take the key but found it slipping out of her grasp. Flass grinned at her again, making Kirsten's cheek flush from embarrassment. Honestly, this was supposed to be a professional work place, not a high school lunch room. Yet there was no denying the fact that he was enjoying getting a rise out of her. Thus Kristen had to force herself to stay grounded and not reach up for the key, instead she stared at the detective until he ceased laughing at her expense.

“You know, a woman as pretty as you shouldn't frown like that” he dropped the key at her feet, “you'll get wrinkles.”

Kristen bit back a remark, scooped up the key before turning on her heel to walk away. Behind her back, Flass and his men resumed their conversation. They might be quick to write off the humiliation, but Kristen had to steel herself against the heat rising in her throat.

I should say something. Let them know that I am not to be pushed around and mocked. I'm here to do my job.

Words and courage failed Kristen at a crucial moment. It wouldn't be the first time that she cowered away from bullies, she had simply hoped that adulthood would cut out such childish mockery. Apparently, Kirsten had pinned her hopes on members of the police department being professional and respectable. It wouldn't be the last time Ms. Kringle would set herself up for disappointment, she just didn't know it yet.  
-

It took some time to find the archive office. Mostly because Kristen was too stubborn, thanks to the recent sting of being mocked; to ask for assistance. Once she finds the etched frosted glass, Kristen takes a moment outside the door. Her earlier annoyance shoved aside, with key in hand Kristen went on to unlock her office then was instantly met with resistance. Something was blocking the door on the other side. For a split second, Kristen worried it was yet another prank, something for Detective Flass and his men to laugh at later on. However, her paranoia was quickly debunked since Kristen knew she had the only key to the archives.

With a groan, Kristen pushed against the door, making the obstacle budge a little. Another push and Kristen could hear something being shifted and moved. After five minutes of struggling to wedge the door open, green eyes blinked behind glasses as Kristen leaned forward. A startled gasp escaped the young woman, her office doorway was blocked by stacks of cardboard boxes and sheaves of paper spilling out of folders.

“Oh my god” Kristen uttered in quiet horror.

When she was interviewed for the record clerk position, Ms Kringle had been informed that her predecessor had abruptly resigned eight months ago and they have been trying to get a replacement since then. It wasn't until Kristen fully opened the door did she see the full scope of the chaos. Papers were everywhere, possibly the result of impatient officers and detectives rifling through files and then not bothering to put things back into place. The annoyance she had experienced earlier returned ten-fold.

How was she expected to work in such an environment? Where no one cared about order and simply threw reports on the floor or shoved them haphazardly into the filing cabinet. Her desk was in shambles as well. Folders flung open, their contents spilling over to cover her desk. Kristen balked as she picked up a discarded tie, coffee mugs containing congealed liquid that resembled something along the lines of tar with flecks of mold floating around. Lost in a sea of forgotten papers, dust bunnies and careless filth, Kristen started to wonder if maybe she was out of her league.

It was one thing to clean up after roommates and establish order within a study hall setting, but this was entirely different.

 _Maybe I was right. I walked into the mouth of the beast, it swallowed me and now I'm stuck inside it's rotten guts._  
-

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of my National Write A Novel Month Project. I've been a fan of the series for a few months now, mostly drawn to Kristin Kringle and what makes her tick. I will do my best to stay true to her characteristics revealed within the tv series, but also flesh out some of personality and background.


End file.
